Neanderpundit

Not merely no, but fuck no, with cheese.

Not on a bet. That dude has solid titanium nuts.

trying to shorten my collection, I stumble on a handful of old technical manuals saved from the fire. These were engineering books in the day when being an engineer meant something very different than it does today.

The prize of the collection is an intact and clean copy of the Babcock and Wilcox manual, “Steam”. THis was the goto reference manual for power plant operation and stationary engineer work right up into my teens. I have two copies, so I’m giving one away. There are also copies of “Machinery’s handbook” and “Management’s handbook” (A not particularly well known companion piece, common before the advent of unions and now lost in the midst of time) Locke’s “Gas Engine Design” and quite a few others. In amidst this is a stack of personal notebooks with the hand written notes of a man who finished his engineer’s training very nearly 100 years ago, his pencillled copperplate notes crystal clear and readable as if they were done yesterday.

This sort of thing is usually lost, and it isn’t as if it’s anything a museum would be interested in, but it’s something another engineer can read and appreciate. And I have found it a good home, where this sort of thing is treasured.

Some smooth mouthed little metrosexual castrati at Time Magazine is whining about how icky awful men spread their legs when they sit down, and how it’s the ultimate symbol of a male dominated society.

Well, honey, I got news for you. I have a nutsack two thirds the size of your head, and i ain’t crushing it for anybody, let alone some little CBT junkie like you. You probably don’t encounter too many actual men in your life; they don’t hang around femdom salons bound hand and foot waiting to be sounded. If you see a man on the subway, and he’s “Manspreading”, I highly suggest you engage in a practice called “Lordosis” or “presenting”. If he realizes that you’re in effect weak and completely non threatening, maybe he won’t exit the train wearing your ears around his neck on a string made from your sartorius muscle.

Those of us out here who still have balls, and still use them, are not only not interested in what you have to say, because you’re a moron, but we intend to break free of the oppression by the cuntriarchy and spread our legs where and when we want. Shit, I may just start wearing a kilt. I demand wider airline seats too.

H/T Pascal, of course.